


Blood, Sweat and Twilight

by hypernova



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernova/pseuds/hypernova
Summary: "Blood, Sweat, and Twilight", a Final Fantasy XIV fan-story about a young Midlander striving to protect what is dearest to her.





	Blood, Sweat and Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing fan fiction in years, and my first time writing about XIV! If I make mistakes on lore, please correct me. This is a prelude of sorts for the rest of the story, which will not be written in the same exact style as this one. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading this and what's to come!

The sound of that day, above all else, was what she remembered most. She was seven years old when the Garlean Empire came, with their siege machines and their Magitek armors, their heavy iron jackboots crushing all underneath. It was a hot day, the sun beating down on the arid sand as waterfalls cascaded down the cliffs, the bubbling of their crooks drowned out by the sound of combat. The Garleans were relentless, slaughtering all who stood in their path, be it from opposition or circumstance. The Midlander girl whimpered as her caretaker fell to the hungry blade of a Garlean footsoldier; gripping her knees tightly in terror unable to look at the carnage that unfolded before her.

She was nine when she slept wrapped in rags in an Ala Mhigan refugee camp. The days were scorching, and the nights just as cold. Those nights were equally as fearful, with the howls of Amal’jaa raiders carried uneasily on the wind. She had made a friend in the camp; one who would disappear without a trace on one frigid twilight. The militia, supposed to protect the refugees, were nowhere to be found. If someone was lost, it was expected that they’d never be seen again. In that frightful place, she swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to find a place to live without fear.

A year and some moons had passed, and she found herself as a hired hand at a tavern just outside Horizon; an outpost that was practically a midway point between the last stretches of Ul’dahn territory and the wastelands of Thanalan. It was there that she met the Miqo’te, a Seeker who was fed up with his role as Tia and left his clan. He was a frequent customer, often using the bar as a meeting place for his business associates. The alcohol is cheaper in the middle of nowhere, he said. Days turned to weeks, weeks to month, and the Midlander girl would always anticipate the Seeker’s visits. There would always be a new story of life in Ul’dah, or of his adolescence in the Sagolii. The Seeker was kindly, if not slightly abrasive, and would always ask the girl for her own stories; he listened as often as he spoke. One day, the Seeker stopped coming. Weeks passed, and the girl feared it was another in a long line of people lost to her. One day, as she was scrubbing the ale-stains out of the floor, all the patrons clamored outside. Peeking out, she saw the Seeker, slumped over a Chocobo as it ran into the station, stopping abruptly in front of the tavern’s doors. The girl cried out, rushing to his side. The Miqo’te was covered in wounds, some old, some new. Old bruises were complimented by fresh scars; he was wounded before, and then seemingly robbed afterwards by highwaymen. There was nary a gil on him. Someone in the crowd called for a chirugeon, but none stepped forwards to take the Seeker to one. Who had the coin to waste on a dying stranger? The girl gripped her coinpurse, full of her meager year’s earnings, and gently guided the bird to a healer. She refused to lose anyone else close to her.

Two years passed since the girl left Horizon, working now in Ul’dahn citystate with her new guardian. The Miqo’te, V’eruill, was a burgeoning goldsmith, and the girl was happy to live and work alongside him as an eager to learn apprentice. Time, however, brought unpleasant changes. She found her voice getting deeper, the hair on her body growing thicker and darker, and the general shape of her body shifting. On her fourteenth birthday, V’eruill presented her with a mysterious crate. As she removed the lid, she realized what lengths V’eruill had gone to procure her gift; a month’s supply of specialized fanta tonic, courtesy of one of Ul’dah’s chief alchemists. “We’re both misfits of sorts.”, he had said to her. “Hopefully this will make you feel less so.”

An epoch has passed since the Garleans had slaughtered the girl’s village. The girl had grown into a woman, and grew too did the Mi’qote that she had come to call father. They were an odd sight to see together in the streets of Ul’dah; the pale Midlander stood out heavily when compared to the rugged, tanned Highlanders. Her black hair, peppered with strands of white hair (a side effect of the tonics she had been taking for years) was often tied up in a ponytail; she refused to cut her hair, but was equally reticent to let it interfere with her precise work. The Seeker was equally out of place, as the majority of Mi’qote in the Ul’dahn city-state were courtesan women; males were seldom seen, apart from travelers from Gridania and Limsa. The two were truly an odd pair, but they had each other. The girl finally had a home, and she swore she would never be separated from it again.


End file.
